


The Destiny We Choose

by wordsandtea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Charlie Bradbury, Bottom Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Jokes, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Smut, Soulmate AU, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Top Cas, cas has solutions, dean and cas are soulmates, dean has issius, destiel au, destiel first kiss, handjobs, jess is a cutie, private tutoring, sam needs to make a move, spn au, video chatting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 23:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsandtea/pseuds/wordsandtea
Summary: There are fragile lines and words entwining around the wrist of his left hand - words marking him as claimed by another soul since the beginning of the stars. Words that prophesy the first thing his soulmate will ever say to him. Words that explicitly read “fuck, sorry”.There is college he can’t keep up with and work that never seems to produce enough money and the search for a literature student who is willing to teach him online and the struggle to save his life from falling apart.And then, there is Cas.





	The Destiny We Choose

 

_Chapter 1: It was in the darkest depths of Mordor / Oh I met a girl so fair_

 

“Didn’t you forget something?” Charlie’s voice wove soft strings of light around his heart, and Dean smiled as he turned back towards his best friend. Her arms were tight around his waist within mere seconds.

 

He hugged her back tightly, fingers running through her ginger hair before settling for her back, lips pressing a gentle kiss on her crown. Charlie hummed happily, and when she pulled back eventually, she reached up to adjust his dark green woolen scarf. “Tell Sammy hi for me,” she asked, a smile curving her lips upwards.

 

“Sure will,” Dean answered, a grin on his face. He raised his hand as well and traced her cold, flushed cheeks with his fingertips, and she leaned into his touch for a moment. “Take care of yourself, kiddo.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Charlie said, her forest green eyes beaming up at him softly. “Say hi to Cas as well.”

 

Dean ignored the skip his heart missed when Charlie mentioned Castiel – he had gotten pretty good at that. His friend smiled knowingly, and he could almost see the pointed horns above her pretty head when she bit her lip in an attempt to hold back whatever she had been about to say.

 

Instead, her eyes flickered to the left and then to the right before they focused on Dean again. “The people are staring again,” she then said, a grin tugging at her lips. Dean tore his gaze from her mischievously sparkling eyes and quickly scanned their surroundings. The Christmas market was crowded with people, some walking past them too caught up in their own thoughts, but some people shyly gazed at them from the corners of their eyes, mouths opened in awe.

 

It wasn’t the first time someone mistook them for soulmates. In fact, it tended to happen rather often. They had always been rather close, probably closer than what was normal, not afraid to cuddle or hold hands in public nor shy to declare how much they loved one another in the middle of the street.

 

Not everybody had a soulmate, and most people were pretty okay with that – they were in happy relationships even if they didn’t have the first words their soulmate said to them engraved on their forearms. Charlie didn’t have words on her arms, and she pretty much didn’t care – she liked a fling with one or another cute girl when they went out, and the idea to be tied to someone by a cosmic force didn’t seem to attract her.

 

She would sometimes joke that the universe definitely wanted her together with Dean and Sam, and that the only reason the universe didn’t assign the both of them as soulmates was that Dean was a guy and she was as straight as the line she walked on when she had had too many drinks, and Dean silently agreed with her. They were meant for each other, but not in a romantic way – that was something Dean was a hundred percent sure of, because there were tender, feathery letters marked on his skin, entwined around his wrist in a delicate fashion: _Hello, Dean._

 

Dean couldn’t help but thinking it sounded like something straight off a chick flick romance movie, but he couldn’t say he hated it. It made him think about how his soulmate would pronounce his name, and if it would roll off his tongue differently from when Charlie said it, or Sam. In the images his mind painted, his soulmate called his name like he meant it. Like it had a _meaning_. The formless voice was deep, almost raspy, and Dean didn’t want to think about what it meant when the voice suddenly wasn’t formless at all anymore, but was accompanied by eyes of the deepest blue he had ever seen. _Shit_.

 

He did love Charlie, but he loved her just like he loved his brother, and he didn’t want to bang Sam either. (Well, technically, he could still be asexual, but you get the message.)

 

(Technically, they had also kissed that one time when they got dared during a drunken session of spin the bottle with Garth, Ash and Jo on New Year’s Eve a few years ago. They had agreed that it was gross and that it would never happen ever again.)

 

Dean dropped his head to hide his smirk at the memory. That night had also been the first time Charlie had come out to somebody who wasn’t Dean or Sam – after Garth had stared at them with a disappointed pout, she had explained that they wouldn’t really work out together with _both_ of them checking out ladies’ rear ends.

 

Charlie breathed out a quiet chuckle before she flipped her hair and waved her hand at him. “Well then, see you tomorrow, _babe_!”

 

“Can’t wait until then, _honey_ ,” Dean answered, his lips mirroring her shit-eating grin.

 

He watched as she took a few steps back. “Peace out, bitch,” she mouthed, smiled and pointed finger guns at him. Yeah, she was definitely the kind of girl who did the awkward finger gun thing.

 

Dean winked at her before she turned around. He had to be at Bobby’s garage at 7 tomorrow, and he still had some college assignments due next week, so he hurried his way home to get some sleep at least.

 

The sky was cooling down as its fields darkened around him. The air he breathed out formed white little clouds that lingered in the air in front of him before quietly dissolving into the wind. Winter was freezing cold this year, which was literally the only reason he’d ever wear the scarf Charlie had knitted for him (that was a lie. Charlie had put a great effort into it, of course he was gonna wear it), but it didn’t look like there would be any snow in time for Christmas. Cas had really wanted a white Christmas, mainly because he wanted to do snow angels, and Dean found himself pouting at the universe for making Cas miss out on the opportunity to make snow angels and for making him miss out on the opportunity of sneaking a picture of a Cas embraced by snowy wings.

 

Jeesh, he was pathetic.

 

It wasn’t even like he _could_ snatch a picture of Cas. Hell, he didn’t even know where the guy lived. Only thing he knew was that he was a study friend of Charlie from college. A different one from the one Dean went to, obviously. Because Charlie was smart, and so was Cas, and smart was everything Dean wasn’t. Not that it would be a great use for him to be smart. He had to work his ass off at Bobby’s garage to keep Sammy alive – not that Bobby wouldn’t let the boys live with him, but Dean refused to depend on anyone, and he had Bobby promise him to never pay him more than the minimum wage no matter the circumstances.

 

Accepting money as a gift would make him dependent on that person, and Dean swore that he would never depend on somebody again. Not after his mom died and his dad left them alone the day Dean turned 18 (not that he had been around much before anyways, as he had spent most of his days drowning his sorrow in alcoholism or passed out on the couch). He had raised Sam for four years now, and his baby brother – because that’s what he would always be, no matter how old he turned or how wise he got or how much taller than Dean or how much longer his hair would grow – was about to graduate soon. Sam would go to a really good college, probably the one Charlie went to as well, and Sam needed somebody to look up to, to prove him that going to college was the right way, and a parent to come to when he had problems with his classes.

 

It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t like he could make much more money if Dean didn’t spend most of his time struggling with college classes he wouldn’t need anyways, but he was willing to be the parent Sam deserved but never had. If Sam needed someone to look up to, he would always be the first one to volunteer, even if that meant living on a tighter budget.

 

He had raised Sam for four years with the money he had earned from hours of work under sweat and dirt, and hell, he was proud of it. He was proud of the young man Sam had become, and he was keen to keep going.

 

That part had turned out not to be as easy as he would like it when he had gotten a new teacher for his literature course and Dean had stopped understanding anything the woman said. He had turned to Charlie for help at first, but she had shaken her head determinedly. He knew she would probably have helped him if she was any better at poetry than he was, but Charlie was far more interested in computers and all the IT stuff that Sam had gotten really interested in lately.

 

His head was still able to recall the exact sentences of the conversation that had taken place after he had asked her, because without knowing it yet, it had been the one conversation that had woken up the course of the destiny the stars had promised him.

 

_“Dean, I wish I could help you, but there’s a reason I am not taking any literature classes anymore,” Charlie said with a frown. “I like to read fantasy novels, but that’s a whole different thing than analyzing poems from hundreds of years ago, it turns out.”_

_Dean quickly wondered how he was supposed to survive any further poetry classes if the only books he had ever read were classics from the fantasy section like Harry Potter and The Lord Of The Rings, when a book-nerd like Charlie freely admitted that literature classes weren’t her cup of tea at all._

_He nodded, added a “sure, no problem” and turned around, his brain already straining from trying to calculate whether he could get Jo, his co-worker and friend from Bobby’s garage, would be able to tutor him, when Charlie took a hold of his wrist and spun him around again._

_“Don’t run off like I just signed your death contract!” She complained and punched him in the chest playfully. He didn’t have the nerve to pretend to be hurt, nor to ruffle her hair like he usually did._

_“I need to get through college with good grades,” Dean said, his shoulders tense with the weight that had been thrust upon them by his father. “Sam needs someone to show him the way. He’s only 18, Charlie, if I have to drop out now then he probably won’t even start with college!”_

_Charlie’s smile was sympathetic, but he could see in her eyes how much his words affected her – not because he was being rude, but because she knew what burden he was carrying, and she also knew that there was no way she could help him. “Dean, your brother is smart enough to go to Stanford, or Harvard. He could probably even go study abroad. Don’t you think he’s smart enough to make his way without needing you to show him the way?”_

_Dean had to bite his lip in order to choke back his tears. “He needs me,” he whispered, voice so low and broken he wouldn’t have recognized it if he would have heard it recorded. “He needs me, Charlie. I_ need _to do this.”_

_Charlie pulled him into a hug that somehow managed to make Dean feel sheltered, even though he was a foot taller than her. “It’s okay, Dean,” she whispered back softly._

_“He is everything I have. If I quit now, it’s the same as giving up on him.” Dean buried his face in the crook of her shoulder as he sank onto the ground, and she moved with him, one hand rubbing circles on his back and the other combing through his dirty blonde hair. “I know,” she answered, even though it broke her heart, because she knew that that was what Dean thought, that he had to do all of this, that his path was destined by the same force that held the universe together, and she knew that she wasn’t able to make him realize that he_ didn’t _have to do this, that nobody was forcing him to break himself in order to give Sam wings, because Sam had wings on his own and he was already learning to fly. But Dean didn’t see it, and Charlie was wondering whether he would ever learn to open his eyes and to risk getting hurt, because sometimes, you needed to risk a knife to the heart and a bullet in the brain before you were able to see the true vibrant colors of this world._

_She held him until he stopped shaking, and when she slowly let go of him, making sure he was steady enough not to collapse on the grass beneath their legs, she wiped away the tears he was too tired to raise his hand for._

_“A friend of mine, he’s really good with poetry,” she started softly, and Dean looked up at her like she was his savior, and in that moment, she would have given anything for him to see that the only savior he needed was himself. “His main course is theology, but he takes literary and cultural studies as well. I could ask him if he would mind tutoring you.”_

_And just like that, the first star in the constellation of Dean’s destiny was ignited._

_“Can you do that?” he asked softly, the corner of his lips twitching upwards in a tired attempt of a smile._

_“His name is Castiel,” Charlie answered just as gently, and Dean would have lied if he’d say that he didn’t feel the spark deep within his heart in that very moment. “I’m sure he is going to say yes.”_

 

He smiled at the memory, his breath warm against the late evening sky. His breakdown hadn’t exactly been one of his proudest moments. But, after all, Charlie had been right.

 

 

Dean rolled on his back and stared at his phone, brows drawn together, teeth worrying his lip. Charlie had given him Castiel’s number the afternoon two days ago, and he still didn’t have the guts to text the guy. How the hell did you even start a conversation like that? “Hey my friend gave me your number because I suck at life” didn’t really sound like a convincing way to go.

 

For what probably was the 27th time that day, his thumb hovered over the small, green WhatsApp icon. He scowled at the screen. Why the hell was it so hard? It hadn’t been hard when Charlie had handed him a small note with a phone number scribbled on with lead pencil, so obviously not Charlie’s clean, neat handwriting, above a small “Castiel Novak”. It hadn’t been hard when he had saved the contact. He had definitely been more annoyed to have to rely on someone else than anything else when he had waited for the stupid app to realize he had saved a new number.

 

His breath definitely _hadn’t_ hitched when he had tapped on the profile picture of Castiel Novak, and he had done a more or less successful job at convincing himself that he had not stared at the picture like a total creep before he had turned off his phone and refused to use it until today.

 

Castiel was a pretty darn attractive guy, and Dean Winchester absolutely did not have a weak spot for cute boys with eyes bluer than anything he had ever witnessed on this goddamn earth. He definitely did not.

 

That’s why he clearly wasn’t tempted to open the picture at all when he tapped on Castiel’s name, and he surely didn’t squint in an effort to try and emphasize the clear lineaments, the slightly tilted head and the dark brown mess that was his hair. He sighed when the chat popped open, empty except for the contact name and that damn picture.

 

 

_[11/27/2017]_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:17]_

_Hi, got this number from a friend, are you Castiel Novak?_

He deleted the text immediately. This wasn’t some girl he had met at a party. (Though he kind of wished that Castiel was exactly that.)

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:17]_

_Hey, are you the one who’s supposed to help me with college?_

 

Ugh. Cas wasn’t _supposed_ to help Dean after all. He had kindly offered his help, and this would make Dean sound like a total asshole. He stared at the message for a few seconds before backspacing.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:18]_

_Hi there. Dean Winchester here. You know who I am?_

A frustrated groan pushed past his lips. The sharp edges of his upper front teeth sunk deeper into the soft flesh of his lip as he watched letter after letter disappear again.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:18]_

_Hey, Charlie gave me your number. This is Dean, she told you about me?_

Dean frowned at the message for a moment, but it didn’t look too bad, and he clicked _send_ before he would have the time to change his mind _again_.

 

He left the chat open, waiting until the message had sent and until the two small checkmarks appeared at the right bottom corner of the text bubble, indicating that the message had arrived on the other phone.

 

Still chewing on his lip – he still remembered the faint taste of fresh blood on his tongue, but he was too deep within his thoughts to stop the nervous manner – he clicked on Castiel’s profile picture. The young man definitely wasn’t too keen of selfies. For what Dean could judge, someone else took the picture without the guy agreeing to it. The picture showed him in a library, a book in his soft looking hands, a t-shirt showing his gently toned arms. A pair of nerdy reading glasses, at least Dean guessed they were reading glasses, he had stuck onto the collar of the black shirt, and he was frowning into the camera like he was judging the person taking the picture really, really hard.

 

He was still staring at the picture, noticing how the edges were slightly blurred like the person that took it was laughing – maybe that guy had a girlfriend who had taken this – when his phone buzzed. With a very majestic movement, the devise jumped out of his hands, did a backflip and landed right on his freckled face.

 

He muttered a few curses under his breath. Yeah, that wasn’t one of his proudest moments either.

 

He fished the phone up and rubbed his itching nose. Checking the screen, he thanked god that he didn’t accidentally call Castiel or sent him a text showing how many cool letters his keyboard included. That would have been kind of, er, awkward.

 

When he returned to the chat, however, his whole face lit up.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:23]_

_Hello, Dean. Yes, I gave Charlie a note with my number._

 

Dean was already back to frantically thinking of something to text back when the device vibrated between his hands for the second time, and he actually managed not to let it slip again.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:24]_

_She told me you might need some help concerning your literature class. Am I correct?_

He didn’t even notice that his lips twitched up into a smile. Concerning, correct, who the hell still used these words in every-day-language?

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:24]_

_Yeah_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:24]_

_I’m good with novels, but poems have the habit of biting my ass._

Almost immediately, his phone buzzed again.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:24]_

_I was right. :D_

Dean smirked.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:25]_

_Doesn’t happen often?_

It took a while until Castiel answered. Dean was already wondering if he had scared him away already.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:47]_

_I don’t think a few rhymed and metred stanzas are able to harm you in any way._

The breathy laugh he huffed out and the wrinkles forming on the skin around his sparkling eyes weren’t much, but it was something. It was a beginning, maybe, a gentle push to open another door, and maybe the stars – still faint against the lilac sky – twinkled just a little bit brighter that moment.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:51]_

_Oh._

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:51]_

_My brother informed me that this was a joke._

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:52]_

_I apologize. My people skills are rusty._

Dean grinned. People skills? He liked that guy.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:54]_

_You can understand metaphors from poems but you can’t get a joke?_

Immediately, he started to wonder if he was being too impolite, but he kind of had a point, he thought. Eventually, Castiel started typing again.

 

When Dean read his message, he snorted. Castiel was either funny, or trying very hard to be. It was, admittedly, kind of adorable.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:58]_

_Metaphors do not usually contain teeth anywhere near my ass, Dean._

Dean had to actually bite his fist to stop himself from laughing out loud. Not that he was going to let Castiel know that, though.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[20:58]_

_Aww. Did you work hard on that one?_

He didn’t bother putting his phone away as he waited for the response. He didn’t close the chat window.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[20:59]_

_I am quite proud of it._

He startled when he heard a loud snort, only later realizing it had been his own.

A knock on the door made him look up. Sam thrust his head inside the room. “What are you laughing about?”

 

Dean choked on his chuckle and stared at his younger brother with wide eyes. He quickly locked his phone and placed it on the windowsill next to his bed. He – definitely less successfully this time – convinced himself that he _did not_ blush. At all. “What’re you talking about, Sammy? I’m not –”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow and folded his arms in front of his chest. “I heard you. My room is on quite the opposite of this flat. I had headphones on.” Sam really was not to be fucked with.

 

Dean glanced at the time. “Shouldn’t you be doing homework?” He decided he wouldn’t tell Sammy he was taking private tutoring. It was bad reputation for a big brother.

 

The way his brother’s eyes rolled upwards proved that he already had a bad reputation. “Dean, it’s Friday. I’m not doing homework on a Friday evening.”

 

“Oh.” Dean was blushing a deeper shade now. _Damn it_. “Are you going out?”

“I have a date with my laptop.” Sam shrugged.

“One of those Greek mythology rpgs?”

“I am so short from slaying the hydra! I could actually do it tonight!”

 

Dean sighed, but he couldn’t help the loving smile that formed on his lips. “Are you sure you –”

“Dean, you met your best friend in a larping round. Your argument is invalid.” Sam grinned at him. That superior little shit.

 

“You still didn’t tell me why you were laughing,” Sam brought up again, and Dean groaned. “I’m texting a hot chick and she sent me a video of her doing funny things with her boobs. Wanna see?”

 

Sam made a face. “God. No. You’re disgusting, Dean.”

 

Dean only smirked as Sam left the room in around 0.2 seconds. The idea of his brother sexting was always weirding Sam out. Not that Dean blamed him – that was exactly the point. He couldn’t even remember if he ever had an attractive girl who could have sent him videos. There was Charlie, of course, but the videos she sent him usually included less boobs and more cute animal babies, and if they actually did involve boobs once, they probably belonged to some porn star.

 

He unlocked his phone again. Castiel’s online status had disappeared, but Dean chose to send another text anyways.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:13]_

_My brother is now thinking you are a hot chick._

Castiel’s response came a few seconds later.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:14]_

_I don’t understand. Did you show him a picture of me?_

He heard a giddy chuckle, and it took him a moment to realize it came from his own lips. He couldn’t really think of the last time he had connected with a stranger as easily as that – or the last time someone made him make him ridiculously happy just like that.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:14]_

_Lol, no. He wouldn’t stop bothering me, so I told him I was texting a hot chick. Made Sammy leave pretty fast._

It sounded lame when he typed it like that. It had felt way cooler in real life, almost like he was a special secret agent on a mission.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:14]_

_Oh, I see. You didn’t want to tell your brother you are getting private tutoring?_

Well, private tutoring would definitely be something Dean would want from a hot chick. He chuckled to himself.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:15]_

_Want to be a good big bro. I’m doing this so I can help him when he has troubles with college later._

Dean paused, his thumbs hovering aimlessly over the screen of his phone. He found it was pretty easy opening up to Cas, judging by how he didn’t even think twice before pressing _send_. _Great, I text a guy one time and I tell him the story of my life_ , Dean thought and shook his head. That was probably what you got from never telling anyone besides Charlie how he felt.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:15]_

_That’s very noble of you, Dean._

He stared at the black letters, and little did he know that his whole face flushed with pride. Nobody had ever called him noble. He knew that Jo and Charlie were worrying about him, and he knew that his father had always thought of him as an obsessive freak, but nobody had ever called him _noble_.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:16]_

_However, I am flattered, I guess._

Dean frowned.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:16]_

_Huh?_

Dean tapped his fingers against the screen while he waited for a response. Castiel was a boy’s name, right? Was the boy on the profile picture actually a girl’s boyfriend? He tried to recall what pronouns Charlie had used, but his mind went more and more blank the longer he spend thinking about it.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:19]_

_That you told your brother that I was a hot chick. That was flattering._ _J_

Yeah, well, Dean had understood _that_ part.

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:20]_

_Was it?_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:20]_

_You are a guy, right? Castiel sounded kinda… manly to me._

He definitely didn’t spend the next few minutest frowning at his phone. That would be crazy. It would also be crazy to start chewing on the nail of his thumb while reading the last displayed messaged over and over again wondering if he had just insulted a girl who may be using her boyfriend as her profile picture. So, obviously, Dean didn’t do anything like that.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:25]_

_Technically, I am named after the angel Cassiel, and I don’t think angels can have a gender. As for my genitals, I usually get to know people first before they want to see what’s in my pants._

Dean swallowed, his fingers slightly shaky as he typed out ‘ _well, I don’t do usually_ ’, before he groaned and deleted all of it. He didn’t want to start his private tutor lessons with dirty jokes that he wasn’t sure Castiel would understand as _jokes_.

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:25]_

_It’s fine, I don’t want to know what’s in your pants._

It would be a lie if he’d say he wasn’t strangely proud of this answer.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:26]_

_Is it wrong being a hot chick?_

A silent, unnoticed smile had crept onto Dean’s face. His fingers almost started typing on their own. Usually, he would have made a sarcastic, maybe almost rude comment, but just this once, Dean refused to let his brain rule his heart. A heart that was fluttering happily against its cage, momentarily completely happy with how things were.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:27]_

_No, Cas, there is nothing wrong with being a hot chick._

This time, his phone buzzed almost instantly with the notification of a new message.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:27]_

_J_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:27]_

_If you don’t want your brother to know you’re getting private tutoring, I suppose you don’t want to meet up regularly. How about we video chat during the sessions? I think that’s slightly more effective than texting._

Dean had to admit that he had a point. (He decided to go with _he_ until proven otherwise. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the boy in the profile picture was hella cute.)

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:28]_

_Sure. Do you have Skype or something?_

He would have to steal Sammy’s laptop, but he did that every then and now to video chat with Charlie as well, so it hopefully wouldn’t be much of a problem.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:28]_

_I will send you my contacts. Are you free tomorrow? If you want to pass the finals, we better start early._

 

Dean quickly left the chat and opened his gallery, checking out the working schedule he had shot a picture of. He would have to work until 4pm, and the thought of doing stuff for college after he got off wasn’t all that flattering, but he guessed he barely had a different choice if he wanted to keep his reputation of a smart guy in front of Sam.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:29]_

_How does 5pm sound for you?_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:29]_

_And what does that mean, if I want to pass the finals? I’m not_ that _bad._

What on earth had Charlie told that guy? He made a mental note to himself to strangle her next time he’d see her. Which would hopefully not be that far into the future.

 

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:29]_

_Charlie said you were a hopeless case. I didn’t see why she would lie to me. Is that not the case?_

Dean groaned. He’d really have to have a word with the redhead.

 

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:29]_

_I will kill her._

Would Dean actually hurt her? Maybe. Maybe he would steal back the sweater she stole from him months ago, thinking he didn’t notice. And maybe he would also leave another sweater at her place so she wouldn’t feel too bad. Yeah, that sounded like a just punishment.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:29]_

_Make sure you have an alibi and no witnesses._

Dean lifted an eyebrow, a gesture he had perfected over the years. He was probably the one Sam had learnt the mimic from.

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:29]_

_Was that a joke?_

His phone vibrated almost the second he sent the text.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:29]_

_;)_

Dean shook his head and chuckled. He wasn’t good with words, but he was pretty sure that _unbelievable_ was the right term to use for Castiel.

_To: Castiel Novak_

_[21:30]_

_You are a mystery, Castiel Novak._

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:30]_

_It’s a pleasure._

A coy smirk formed on Dean’s face. When he realized it, he crinkled his nose and rubbed over it, a habit he had picked up from Charlie somehow, as if his freckles were to blame for his emotions.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_[21:30]_

_And 5pm sounds perfect._

 

His cheeks flushed as the corners of his lips twitched up again. With a sigh he was sure was not meant to sound that giddy, he locked his phone and placed it on the windowsill. He didn’t want to think about what was happening, he didn’t want to stop and wonder why the fuck what was happening was happening, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel guilty for _letting_ it happen.

 

And just like that, he was way too embarrassed to send a good night message.

 

 

Looking back, falling in love with Castiel had been easy, almost as easy as it was for the wind to make the colored autumn leaves dance. His heart knew it, and every fiber of his being had waited for that day to come ever since he had went to sleep that evening with a stupid smile still plastered onto his face. The only thing, however, that hadn’t gotten the information yet was his head.

 

It wasn’t like he refused to believe it. He wasn’t even in denial. It wasn’t that he didn’t realize the way his heart sped up as he settled for his bed, blanket dragged around his shoulders and Sammy’s laptop balanced on his knees. He did realize the way Castiel managed to make him chuckle more often than he dared to admit, and the way even simple things Cas noticed about him made him blush, and the way he found himself not able to tear his gaze away from a pair of the bluest eyes he ever saw, wishing that the screen would disappear and he could just reach through and _touch_ him.

 

He realized all these things, but his head was so twisted in so many ways, and he had chosen to lock his heart away so many years ago, and he just didn’t _know_.

 

And little did he know that the universe itself was watching as he now waited for his desktop to appear with impatient fingers tapping against the touchpad, and saw it was good.

 

When Sam’s background picture of a star-freckled sky lit up, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He almost slammed the Skype button and drummed his fingers against the keyboard while he waited for the app to finish loading. His fingers flickered over the touchpad and found Castiel’s icon on instinct.

 

It didn’t take long until Cas answered the video call.

 

He started smiling as the young man combed through the dark strands of his hair, blue eyes twinkling in a way Dean found himself thinking about every night when he went to sleep. He melted in his blankets, his hand steadying the laptop on his knees in an attempt to stop himself from reaching out and sliding his thumb over the screen where a tiny scruff had appeared on Cas’ chin, spreading gently up to his cheekbones.

 

“Hi, Cas,” he greeted the man weakly. Little did he know how pathetically in love he sounded, and little did he know that Castiel smiled not only because he was happy to see him, but because he knew.

 

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
